CD Reviews

These days, I have gravitated more and more towards music that you don't often hear on the Clear Channel/MTV Musicopoly. What's more, I have been listening to a lot more uke-oustic CD's than I ever would have two or so years ago, before I discovered the sublime, expressive tones of the ukulele.

Of my many recent uke CD purchases, two stand out as solid home-brewed uke-o-tainment. Funny, they couldn't be more different.

The first is a work of classic stare-at-your-own-shoes street performer pop. The first, I think, is entitled Ya-Ya by David Herman and Ivar Dune (or maybe David Ivar and Herman Dune, I'm not sure of anything except that there are two of them). I picked this up at the Rhino Records in Clairmont for about $10. It is locally produced in Upland, CA.

The cover resembles a yellow rendition of the poster from Mel Gibson's "The Passion," if the Jesus were wearing a baseball cap and playing a ukulele.

Recorded in mono, this CD has the sound of being recorded in some guy's studio apartment just before the electricity was about to be shut off. This is a good thing. The singing and playing is Jonathan Richman-esque. I am comforted that I sing better than the vocalist, but discomfited that someone plays ukulele better. The lyrics have a nice nerd-punk confessional sensibility about loves lost, adventures in NYC, and guys who don't make much money but are at least trying to make their way. My favorite song is Time of Glory/NYC, but the original material is all fun and the cover of Otis Redding's "These Arms of Mine" takes on a new pathos when sung by some nasal white guy.

The next CD is Preliminary Slither by Snake Suspenderz, street minstrels from Seattle whose spellcheck has broken. I have never heard Snake Suspenderz live, which I imagine might take place on a street corner or in a bar, but I imagine that it would be fun. Where many Jazz and Blues recordings sound too rehearsed, this CD captures the spontaneity of a live street performance. The Gravely yawp of Howlin' Hobbit provides a nice contrast to the lazy croon of Thaddeus Spae. Both possess fine scat skills as well.

Their voices also blend well, as do their various instrumental combinations-Thad primarily on Trombone, Howlin' Hobbit on ukulele. The two are multi-instrumentalists, playing a variety of combonationsincluding guitar, tub bass, harmonica, and pocket saxophone.

Songs that stand out are "Slow Boat to China,""Keepin' Up with My Jones," "Peoria." Nuff-Bob says check it out.

Taos Writers' Conference

By the way, I got my info packet from the Taos Writers' Conference, including the letter from the facilitator in charge of my week-long workshop. The workshop is entitled " Writing about Landscape."

The guy says that it's for novelists and short fiction writers and that we are supposed to send a sample short story to be copied and distributed to my co-workshoppers for critique.

HOLY SHIT!

I say that because I am a beginner when it comes to fiction. I thought this would be a pleasant workshop with harmless writing exercises, that teacherly types like myself could feel good about. Now, I find out that I need to write something GOOD? What the Hell?

I should have stuck with the poetry.

Workout

I was supposed to do the Rubydoo hike, but forgot. But I did go to the gym.

I have been noticing the last couple of years a change in whom I see at the gym. Now, I have been going up and down in weight during most of my adult life, so I don't mean to be judgmental. But it seems like people I see at the gym are getting heavier.

Back when I first joined a gym, the clientele was much buffer than I was. In fact, it was a kind of meat market, where the most beautiful, muscular people would go to show off their tight bods.

Now-of-days, it seems like people built like me are the norm. In fact, I would be tempted to say that I am among the middle weights of gym-goers. And I am definitely overweight.

Nuff, you say, this is what happens as people grow older. And I would say that you are right. Anyone my age should be changing, buffatude-wise.

But I'm talking about the younger people as well. Young men and women who go to work out are pudgier than they should be. Oh, you can go back to the free-weight room and find the exceptions to the rule. However, even they are shrinking in numbers.

This may be the era of the neo-rubenesque.

Open Mike Coming Up

I think next Sunday is the next Open Mike at the Folk Center. The last two were cancelled: February, because of the Oscars, March, I dunno why. Maybe they needed a break.

One song I think I'll do is "Take a Giant Step"-a song that Taj Mahal does, but I think it's written by someone else. Sounds pretty good on Ukulele. Has kind of a calypso feel to it. I'm not sure about the other song. It might be "Little Red Riding Hood," by Sam the Sham. Or, it might be "America, I Gave My Boy to You"-a song that I found on Betty Lou's guitar site. It's a WWI recruiting song. I played it for my classes once during our WWI unit. It's of the same theme and tempo as "Over There." It's all about American's being willing to sacrifice for their country. Slow it down a bit and it takes on an irony that the authors probably didn't intend. At least, I think it does. I guess I'll find out if I perform it for the folk music center crowd, as they are pretty anti-war.

Here's Betty Lou's site: http://betty.hypermax.net.au/index.html

Here's where you can find the song: http://betty.hypermax.net.au/americaheresmyboy1.htm

I find the Betty Lou site a little confusing. It's got a lot of songs, but the organization is sometimes hard to follow. It's best just to browse and see what you come up with.

Back to the open mike, I'm not sure what uke to take. I like my new tenor, but am re-thinking the whole lower g-string thing. It was ok, back when I was sewing my wild-uke oats, but I find myself drawn back to the traditional soprano tuning. Also, I'm not sure that the nylguts' sound is so much better so as to make up for the relative stiffness of the strings. Then there's the aesthetic question: the white strings blend in with the blond wood of the uke, giving the appearance a monochromatic look. Black strings would provide a better contrast.

I am opening up my playing through the beauty of the barred chord. It makes some chord progressions easier and makes most chords sound more interesting. If only there were more time to practice.

I think I need to either take lessons or play with someone else regularly. When I do play with someone else, I seem to make more progress. The band my brother and I keep talking about putting together, the Mighty Procrastinators, never materializes. He did say that he cleaned out his barn. I've got an old can of paint and my Mom can make the costumes, so maybe we can put on a show.

Just got Snake Suspenders' CD in the mail. So far, my favorite song is "Peoria." Reminds me of the old folk song, "Marching to Pretoria," except it expresses a more carnal intent.

I also like the scat-singing. I think someone should teach a scat-singing workshop at the next uke fest I go to. Except, I think scat singing is something you can't teach.

I have purchased more uke-o-centric CD's in the past year or so than I have in my entire half-century. What has become of me?

Hotel Rwanda

So, my co-teacher and I showed Hotel Rwanda. We started it yesterday and finished it today. It was a logical follow-up to a memorial research project the students had just completed-the unifying theme being various atrocities that have occurred around the world throughout history. It ties in with a units we do on World Wars I and II and the Holocaust.

So, yesterday, before class started, we discussed what follow-up assignment we should give after showing the film. He didn't want to just have them write another essay, I thought about having them write some sort of poem. But everything we brought up with one another fell flat.

Then, when we started the DVD, the star appeared onscreen with a PSA about Amnesty International. The lightbulb went off in my head and I whipped together an assignment in which the students would pick from various international organizations that feed, heal, protect, and/or defend victims of events like that depicted in Hotel Rwanda. My co-teacher and I agreed that it was perfect.

I should say that neither of us got around to seeing this movie before showing it-a risky approach for a teacher. You never know when some parent will find a reason to object to what is going on in your classroom.

It was good to see a good film for the first time with your students. Your response is more real and they can see that.

I was supposed to present the assignment when the film had finished, but this film. If you don't remember what happened in Rwanda, or if, like me, you only had a detached awareness at the time, you should see this film. When you think that our government was among those who did nothing-just as we did nothing in El Salvador-or do nothing now in Darfur-you feel helpless.

I don't often weep in class. But, I had to stop several times to do so.

The hope is that one person, like Paul in the film, can rise up and do what is right. It isn't the success, it's the doing.

Most of the organizations on my list were started by individuals, by the way, who saw something wrong and tried to fix it.

I provide, here, the list. Check a few of them out, if you want. Join one and get involved, if you want. Then, go strum your ukulele.

Heifer International: http://www.heifer.org/

Food for the Hungry: http://www.fh.org/

UNICEF: http://www.unicef.org/

Voices of Youth: http://www.unicef.org/voy/speakout/speakout_564.html

Oxfam: http://www.oxfam.org/eng/

Catholic Relief Services: http://www.catholicrelief.org/

Lutheran World Relief: http://www.lwr.org/

Mercy Corps: http://www.mercycorps.org/home/

Water Aid: http://www.wateraid.org/

The Hunger Site: http://www.thehungersite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites

America’s Second Harvest: http://www.americassecondharvest.org/

Amnesty International: http://www.amnesty.org/

Control Arms: http://www.controlarms.org/

UN Commission on Human Rights: http://web.amnesty.org/pages/unchr-intro-eng

Coalition to Stop the Use of Child Soldiers: http://www.child-soldiers.org/

Human Rights and Displacement Consultancy: http://www.codhes.org.co/

International Rescue Committee: http://www.theirc.org/

International Committee of the Red Cross: http://www.icrc.org/

International Crisis Group: http://www.crisisgroup.org/home/index.cfm?

Iraq Body Count: http://www.iraqbodycount.net/

International Association of Solidarity: http://www.andas.org.co/

Permanent Committee for Human Rights Defense: http://cpdh.free.fr/

Aegis Trust: http://www.aegistrust.org/

One: http://www.one.org/

DATA: http://www.data.org/

Doctors without Borders: http://www.doctorswithoutborders.org/

New At Uke Millennium

I changed things so that even non-members could write comments to my posts. Also, I made other changes that allows everyone the freedoms previously denied them on my blog. I'm all about freedom.

I don't remember what many of those changes were, because I really don't know what I am doing techno-wise anyway.

Also, I just joined Amnesty International. My co-teacher and I were showing Hotel Rwanda to our classes today. The DVD starts with Don Cheadle talking about the Rwandan Genocide and how a similar massacre is occurring in Darfur and that viewers like me could help by joining AI. So if you're a concerned citizen like me, go to the link: http://www.amnesty.org/. And, while I'm at it, check this out:http://www.heifer.org/.

I also joined the ACLU. I know that some of you probably buy into that bunk about them being anti-Boy Scout, anti-Christian, and pro-child pornography-but that simply isn't true. Check out their website and decide for yourself:http://www.aclu-sc.org/

The Entry I Should Have Written a Week-and-Half Ago

Last Saturday, I went and visited an old friend, whom I have known since before kindergarten. It's hard to imagine knowing anyone that long.

I think that I have been a little shy about rekindling our friendship. He's a good guy and was my best friend during a shaky adolescence. But, while we both gravitated around the same area during the 30-plus years since High School, we moved out of one another's orbit. I could get into all of the issues, but it all boils down to me not being receptive when he would reach out and him not being receptive when I did. None of this was hostile. It just was what two young, then semi-young, than middle-aged men went through separately.

There may have been a little pride involved.

I'm not sure, because we have never talked about it. Maybe that's a good topic for our next getting together.

We tried this about a month before, when I ran into him at Trader Joe's, where his wife works. I even took a phone number, which I lost.

I thought I knew where he lived, but got lost. Couldn't call. I stopped at a house that I thought was probably a neighbor's. An older man answered the door and, when I asked if he knew my friend, he said that his memory wasn't as good as it used to be.

I felt like a chump.

Then, I ran into his wife on her first day back at work since injuring herself a year or so ago. My first impulse was to turn away before she saw me, because I figured that I might be a scoundrel as far as she was concerned.

I did this, but finished my shopping, trying to compose my explanation in case she started throwing things at me, and went to my car to load my groceries and get a pen. I re-entered the store and went and found her and made arrangements to try again, writing the phone number again.

It worked out this time and we had a great reunion. We talked politics and religion and found that we both had traveled to similar Liberal Democrat, non-sectarian beliefs. We still had similar tastes in music. We were both going bald.

Actually, I am going bald. He has been there for quite awhile.

With Fame, Comes Responsibility

While surfing the web, I found that my blog has been discovered by Ukulelia, a really good blog about ukuleles. Dang! I'd better start writing better.

I need to learn more upbeat tunes. I tend to be attracted to the melancholy in life and music and have noticed that this tendency finds its way into my song choices. One thing that I like about the ukulele is that it lends an irony to sad tunes. You have this cheery little instrument, thought of as a toy or an instrument worthy of only Tiny Tim on "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In." It is perfect for Disney and Muppets tunes. But, when you play a song like "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?" on it, it gives the song a poignancy that it doesn't have on the guitar or banjo. It adds to the idea that this guy, the American working man, has helped build the great industrial monuments of this nation, but has to stand on the sidelines, watching others enjoy the fruits of his labors as he himself is forgotten. Not even a memory.

And the idea that he's sings the song while playing the ukulele-a cheap, tiny instrument associated with fun-creates a tension in the song-a yinyang where singer and instrument pull against one another for control.

I may have been an English major for too long. But the other thing I have noticed is that the lyrics progress from "brother" to "buddy." Like maybe this guy's family has even forgotten him and he has to turn to people who may have once been his friends. In fact, through the first two verses, the narrator in the song is an anonymous American worker/WWI vet and doesn't become a person ("Hey, don't you remember, you called me Al?") until the end, when he's talking to his "buddy."

I wish I had known how to play the ukulele when I was in Grad School. This is not a major regret of mine, but a minor one.

Since learning the uke, I have learned how to play "Wayfaring Stranger," a song that is frequently alluded to in Cold Mountain. I wrote and presented a paper on that novel to a class taught by a favorite professor and thought about opening by singing the song. This professor was a folk musician and had actually spent time traveling to farflung regions collecting songs from isolated communities.

I chickened out because I thought it might detract from the content of my presentation. I was also a little shy about singing a capella. But, if I would have had a uke, I think it would have ben sweet.

The uke being my first musical instrument that I have stuck with, I have learned something about the construction of songs that I didn't get before. I can see how a songwriter has to shape both words and music into a piece of art, much like a painter has to shape color and subject matter.

Circadian Dysrhythma

I like Daylight savings, even though I'm convinced that I never really gain that one lost hour of sleep back. In fact, during the school year, my body clock keeps encouraging me to stay up late and enjoy the night. Problem is, I have natural vampire-esque tendencies that make me want to stay up.

I am a night person. At night, I do my best thinking. Since it gets dark so much later, I await the night and am afraid that I won't get enough of it. The night is a meditation. The day, a revelation. I guess I just prefer the meditation.

More to come later this weekend. I will try to make up for the lack of posts this week. I hope to tell of my meeting with an old, old friend and my walk up Mt. Rubidioux. And, of course, those CD reviews.

Until then, get out your ukuleles and amuse yourselves.

Another Minor Correction

Actually, only one of my friends has ever told me that I was a true Pisces. The only other people who have ever told me that I was a true Pisces were usually women I had just met who asked me what my sign was, to which I would reply "Pisces," to which they would reply "Well, you're a true Pisces."

The friend that told me that is someone whom I haven't seen for about two years who, one day at a bar on my birthday when everyone was buying me drinks, someone gave me a page out of a book called, I think, The Birthday Book. On that page was every horoscopular item I would ever want to know about myself, both Greek AND Chinese, I read it and passed it around and my friend, upon reading it, didn't actually say "You're a true Pisces," but said something like, "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Another friend recently told me that, in China, I am a wood horse. Good for me.

A Minor Correction

Ok. Sagittarius does NOT have a fish tail. I'm getting my mythological figures confused. Sagittarius is a centaur. He is the archer. My bad.

CAPRICORN is the other one with the fish tail. It's a goat/Sea serpent kind of thing.

Another Reason to Ignore Astrology

I actually did some research for this entry. I was looking through the list of ukulele players and noticing how many were Pisces, like me. Then began to notice how many were water signs. I was impressed, at first, with our numbers and thought that I would reflect on this and solicit comments from my six devoted readers. I had this grand thesis about Portugal, the first ukulele-ish instruments traveling across the ocean, Hawaii being an island, that Iz CD cover where he's floating blissfully in a swimming pool, etc.

But, to make sure that I had my facts right, I did a Google search on water signs and found out that I was wrong.

I thought that Pisces, Cancer, Sagittarius, Aquarius, and Scorpio were all water signs. Since there are only twelve signs, I guess I should have figured.

But imagine my shock that Sagittarius and Aquarius were not water signs. I mean, they both have fish tails, for God's sake. And the Aquarius guy is even depicted as pouring water out of a jug. And he's called the Water Bearer. And his name begins with AQUA.

So, it's just Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces. Water signs do not hold a majority in the ukulele world, as far as I can tell.

A website I went to in my research mentioned that Cancer was liquid, Scorpio was solid (presumably ice), and Pisces was gas.

Which would explain some digestive problems I've been having of late.

One thing I learned is that my two fishes swim in different directions simultaneously: towards enlightenment and towards carnality, or the sacred and the profane, depending on which reading you look at.

Many friends who know about this stuff tell me that I am a true Pisces. I don't know. I admit I tend to swell with pride about the things that I like about Pisces-that I think fit. But, ironically, my interest in Astrology is pretty shallow.

Now, in China, I'd be a Horse. Which explains why I Tivo'ed all of those Mr. Ed re-runs on Nick at Nite.

Uke Wars III; A Trip to Ukeland

As far as the Uke Wars go, I would like to repeat what Sean Connery said to Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when Indiana Jones was reaching for the Holy Grail, which had just caused the early demise of the hot Nazi babe who had seduced both father and son in the movies. Just as both Indiana and the Grail were about to get swallowed up by a chasm in the Earth, his Dad said simply "Indiana, let it go."

So that's my advice to Uke Forever and others who care about this: Let it go. Most of you will probably never meet in person. So, really, who cares if you agree or disagree? They're just strings, resonator ukes, and smiley-face emoticons. Don't take the fun out of it.

Friday, took a fine trip with UF to Carlsbad and environs to check out some uke stores: Giacoletti's, Buffalo Brothers, and this Hawaiian shop that I forget the name of. At the last shop, I got to play a Tahitian Ukulele, which was fine. I don't know anything about Tahitian ukuleles, nor do I know where this Tahitian ukulele ranked in quality. It sounded cool, but was not much for projection.

Played around with some other ukes at Buff Bros, which has mainly higher end ukes and collectables. Played a banjo uke, which sounded fine, but was quite heavy. Played a couple of resonator ukes, also heavy. They sounded fine too.

I guess I wanted to prove for myself whether reso-ukes were better or worse than other ukes I have played. But the fact is, to paraphrase Ecclesiastes, to every uke, there is a season. I think the Reso-ukes, the banjo ukes, the Flukes, etc, all have a time where their sound is appropriate. Right now, my favorites are my Oscar Schmidt and my two Belfiorre's. I realize that many others will prefer the Jenny or the Lanakai. There are times when I get real joy from plunking on the cardboard uke I got for a penny at Ukeworld.

As my English teacher, William Bell III used to say, "De ukebus non disputandum est." Concerning ukes, there is no argument. If the Latin is wrong, blame me, not Mr. Bell.

At Giacolletti's, I played around on a few ukes, mostly the six-string Lanakai. I like the sound. UF said implied that a six-string uke is not a real uke. I say talk to Mr. Bell.

I heeded Howlin' Hobbit's advice and decided not to buy another uke until I could afford a really good one. I like the ones I have for now. So I'll wait.

I did buy a tenor case for my Belfiorre Blonde.

UF and I went to a nearby brew pub and had pizza and beer. Once I had a buzz going, I decided to go back to Giacolleti's and get another Jumpin' Jim uke songbook. It looks good, but I'm not sure it's wise to buy anything when your drunk.

Uke Wars II: My Dream for a Peaceful Future

My friend Ukeforever posted a link to my brief commentary on the Uke Wars on the Fleamarket Music BB. I feel bad because I associated Jim Beloff and his Flukes an Fleas with sweetness and light. I hate for this controversy to spill over to that website, although I understand that there have been a few other unpleasantries oozing onto that board.

When I go to ukulele festivals in the area, I am impressed with the overall positive energy that flows freely from one uke collector to another. Everyone there, be they Christian, Jew, Buddhist, or Agnophobic, is ready to put aside their differences for the greater cosmic good of developing one another's ukulelic skills. It is a truly beautiful experience. Even at one uke fest where I thought things weren't so well-run, this positivity still reigned.

But now, there is a disturbance in the Uke Force. Fortunately for them and us, neither Ukeforever nor Uke Jackson are likely to meet. They live on opposite Coasts.

But I have a dream, kind of like the one shared by Haley Mills and her sister, Hailey Mills, in that timeless film "The Parent Trap." I see us all at an international ukulele festival-perhaps in Iceland. Hoards of ukulelists strumming the tune "Little Brown Jug," voices lifted in harmony. At the songs end, individuals in the crowd exchange pleasantries. Zoom in on a gentleman with a ponytail and resonator ukulele. Standing next to him is another gentleman with a pineapple Jenny. They exchange compliments, discover that they both use Nylgut strings, and share techniques for bending notes. They both call themselves "Uke." A friendship ensues that will last a lifetime. One will become godfather to the other's first-born son. The other will donate half of his pancreas for the other's emergency transplant.

It could happen.

To My Legion of Fans

The good news coming out of the Uke Wars, at least for me, is that I am discovering that I face a public hungry for Uke Millennium updates. I have counted 5, count 'em, 5 different respodents to my posts. God alone knows how many of you there are who read my reflections, perhaps in search of some kernel of wisdom that might somehow give you comfort. Perhaps you are too shy to repond.

Of course, of those five, one is a friend from my high school years, one is my sister-in-law, one I think is my brother, and one is a guy with whom I teach. One, is a uke-world celebrity, which I think is pretty cool.

To all of you I say, pluck that uke like a chicken!

I am on Spring Break. Most of this time has been spent on family-type business. However, I have made a tentative plan with Uke Forever to drive to Carlsbad and the surrounding area to check out some music stores that stock ukes. One of them is Giacolleti's, where my two Bellefiore ukes were purchased. These are made by some retired guy in Temecula. If you find yourself in the area (Carlsbad, that is), and you play uke, you should check them out. The other store is Buffalo Brothers, where they specialize in high-end ukes. I don't know the name of the third store.

I need the break from family matters, so I plan on making the trip. Problem is, I have about ten ukuleles as of this writing. Unlike some, I find it difficult to part with any of them, except for two or three cheap ones that I got for next to nothing. They are OK for beginners, but I don't play them very much anymore. So, getting back to my problem, I have a little disposable cash this month and I am afraid that I will be tempted to make another purchase.

My collection, while not great, is pretty good in that I have three instruments that I consider quality: my two Bellefiore and my Oscar Scmidt OU5 (yeah, I know that some folk don't like the Schmidt's that much, but I like it for the softer, gentler songs). Most of my cheaper ukes are pretty good for the price: My Triumph and my Estrella, specifically. My Estrella is my sentimental favorite because it was a gift and it is my first. My Johnson soprano is not my best uke, but it was presented to me by my Advanced Placement English class, all of whom signed it. I play that all of the time at school.

The last time I went to Giacolletti's, there was a six-string Lanikai tenor with a pick-up that I had my eye on. Not to mention that I am a little smitten with the fluke. But my long-term goal is to save my money for a really nice, possibly custom, ukulele for when I become a virtuoso.

My other option has been to go spend a couple of days in Vegas playing Blackjack. Either way, I am out some money. But, with the trip to Carlsbad, I will at least have a nifty ukulele when I come home.

Uke Wars

I think it was Plato who admonished us to never discuss religion, politics, or ukuleles at a party. My friend Uke Forever and Uke Jackson, whom I don't know personally, are a case in point. Over the last 8 months, since I first introduced Uke Forever to the pleasures of Uke, There has been a slowly bubbling fued that recently came to another head, just when we all thought they had made peace and had become friends. This all took place at 4th Peg, a ukulele website.

Their first row came during a discussion about the Iraqui War. Understandable. The argument got a little hot and, well, I don't want to take sides because I would like to keep peace in the ukulele community.

Uke Forever remedied the situation by writing a song called "Uke Jackson hates Me," which got everybody laughing, even Uke Jackson. Pax Ukulelea ensued.

Then they got into a difference of opinion concerning, first, note-bending on the ukulele. Then, their argument spilled over into a Nylgut discussion. Ironically, they both are Nylgut fans. Some name-calling, a few winky-faced smiley icons, and soon the felt picks were flying.

Some day, I hope to meet Uke Jackson. Some day, I hope to make Uke Forever learn that winky-faced smiley icons shouldn't be used carelessly.

Folk Music Concert in Claremont, Part II: The Significant Detail

By the way, I had a Quesadilla, the kind with just cheese, the way God and Mexico intended it. It was pretty good. The White Zin I had with it was a bit soda poppy. I think White Zin is really for people who don't really know what kind of wine they want. I'm trying to cut down on beer, because it's bad for my gout. I think wine is better for a person than beer, anyway.

So, at around 6:45 PM, after we paid the bill, we start to walk to the concert venue, which is at the Claremont Forum. PJ has an address, but doesn't know exactly where it is. He gives me the address and I figure out where we have to go.

OK. If I had figured out where to go, the rest of this post would never have been written. So, I guess, by holding the paper with the address on it, I felt an unjustified sense of my own superiority. In reality, I was as lost as PJ.

Here is an example of how a techno-phobe could easily improve his life if he'd just learn to love his computer. A visit to Mapquest would have solved our problem.

We go to the street (College Blvd?) and walk in the direction we think it will be in. It is one of those North/South addresses. It is night and we are walking down this dark street when we come to Claremont College (or one of them). It is on the corner of this street and another familiar street, but we see no forum. We continue walking until we realize the addresses are going in the wrong direction, mathematically-wise. So we turn back and head up the street. About where we think the Claremont Forum should be, we find a parking lot facing the back of a strip mall kind of affair. There is a poorly made and poorly displayed-not to mention poorly lit-sign that we see, standing up close to it, tells us that the concert is here.

We follow the leftist bumper stickers lined up in the dark parking lot to a tiny building that, sure enough, is the Claremont Forum. It seems that this is not the kind of forum where you would go to see Basketball games and rock concerts. It is the kind of forum where a small group of intellectuals would go to discuss important ideas. The concert hall is a little room, where about 40 people are sitting, listening to M, a local lawyer and office-seeker make a speech. We are almost a half-hour late, but, seeing as how this is a gathering of liberals, time is not of the essence.

I pay my suggested donation and leave PJ, who negotiates a free entrance (because he is a local activist).

The music starts withDavid Rovics, who sings earnest songs of protest in a nasal, thin voice with a bumble bee vibrato. Many of his songs are good, but limited solely to protest the war in Iraq or extole the virtues of revolution. His songs are heartfelt, I am sure, but are limited in theme.

Robb Johnson is the better of the two performers. He also sang about leftist causes, but had a broader range, thematically. He actually had a couple of nice songs about love, fatherhood, his grandparents. I wasn't surprised when I checked out his website and saw that he had translated several Jaques Brel songs. His songs had a Brelian quality to them: witty, sensual, comapssionate.

Each did to sets with an intermission that went on longer than the any of the sets, or so it seemed. Since this was a political gathering, time was made for local political activists to make announcements. One guy, a candidate for the Claremont City Council, spoke for too long about some of the causes he was interested in. He was bearded with long hair and wore the motley street activist threads so popular amongst the aging Woodstock 1 generation. The 2nd guy was pretty much the same, except I guess he had done jail time for his activism. Neither understood the "brief" part of the invitation for them to make brief comments, so M had to interrupt each of them to remind them that we had all come to hear music. Then, as we were about to start, PJ cleared his throat audibly so M would ask him to come up to speak. I'll admit I cringed a little, because the speech part of the evening had already gone on too long. But PJ was wisely short-winded, crisply announcing three events that were coming up without commentary. He understood that it was about the music.

I got a CD by both performers. I haven't yet listened to Rovics. But I have thoroughly enjoyed Johnson's CD. Most of the songs he played were songs from the CD, so I got a 2nd listen. I like "Everythings Alright" and "You in this City" the best. I would recommend you go buy it.

The odd thing about the concert was that the two of them shared one guitar. I think this was because they were on a cheap tour and shared a small car for their travels. Anyway, when the guitar's strings kept busting, it seemed impractical, especially with the Claremont Folk Music Center just up the street.

The first string break came just as Johnson was going into the final song of his 2nd set. I will always wonder about the song he didn't play.

I will report back on the Rovics CD. In fact, look for a CD review blog entry soon. I will review Bright Eyes, Green Day and others.

Folk Music in Claremont at an Undisclosed Location, Part I

I went with PJ to a concert Friday. A folk music concert. I like folk music, as a rule, but feel that it is often dangerous, unpredictable territory. There are folk, and then there are folk.

We were late getting to Claremont, mainly because I fell asleep before I left. We got there in plenty of time and got something to eat at a restaurant that seemed uncertain as to whether it was a Mexican restaurant or burger joint.

It's 11:30. I'm tired. Stay tuned tomorrow for Part II

How Little Our Parents Tells Us; My First Naked Breast

I took the day off and went with my mother to a memorial service for her friend Ruth, who died suddenly a couple of weeks ago. She was one of "the trio."

Now I always assumed that, by "trio," they meant that they were three inseparable friends.

It was only today that I found out that Mom, Ruth, and the other woman had sung as a trio.

And this is the type of stuff that our parents should tell us: How they, their friends, their family, are all connected beyond this generation. I probably know more about my best friend from High School-or even my best adult friend-than I do about my own mother and father. It seems that we are at best strangers. Connected, but strangers.

I always asked my father to write down some of his stories from WWII and he never did. I guess he didn't want to think about it much. He did tell us about getting drunk and then having to sneak back into camp. But that was it.

After the service, it was about dinner time and Mom suggested that we go to a local Mexican fast food place and get some tacos. I then suggested that I take her home and then get takeout from El Serape (Spanish for "the serape"), a restaurant that has been in this city for decades and has always been a favorite among local folk. I'm sure that I first ate there when I was around 5. And, through the years, it has changed little. Same subdued lighting. Same red booths. Same paintings of conquistadors, Aztec Princes with half-naked women draped across their arms, as well as various potteries and plants.

It was the Aztec and half-naked women that I remember most. Whenever we went there as a family, I tried very hard to sit where I could talk to my mother and father while checking out those paintings without having to turn from them. What can I say? I was very young and in love.

When I arrived to pick up our order, I looked around. Almost everything was exactly the same. What was different was the paintings. Someone had painted clothes on most of the women in the pictures. One picture had been partially spared. The woman, in a passionate embrace with her Aztec lover, still had her one perfect breast exposed.

But the nipple had been painted over with a flesh tone. What has this country come to?

Ukulele Nuff in Concert, part 2; My Latest Uke; A Very Merry Un-Birthday

So, I chickened out halfway with my performance today. But, given the tone of the assembly, I think I made the right choice. It might have been too much, had I gone with plan A. Instead of the Rainbow/Neverland medley, I performed U2's "Wild Honey," which I have been working on for awhile. I just couldn't get the other tune to the point where I felt comfortable performing it. I say that I chickened halfway because I DID play a new tune in public at least.

The parents of the young man who was killed in the hit-and-run were there to receive a special award, their son's class ring and graduation picture, which the young man had ordered before he was killed. This was followed by a moment of silence. I felt that this was tribute enough from the hearts of his friends and classmates. "Wild Honey" is a bouncy tune and was a good choice to set a fun tone for the assembly. I think that I have found a good rhythm and am getting to where I am owning it more in performance.

But I still am working on that Rainbow/Neverland thing.

I just bought a Belfiore Tenor ukulele from my friend Ukeforever, who says he now regards himself a soprano guy exclusively now. It is a beautiful blond instrument. I have strung it with a low G Nylgut and really like it. Belfiore is a uke made in Temecula, CA by this guy who also makes guitars. They are light and have a bold bell-like tone. I have another, soprano, Belfiore that I got two years ago at Giacolletti's in Carlsbad, where they are sold exclusively. This guy is getting better. My soprano is nice, but the action is a little high. This new one has a lower action and is easier to play. What also appeals to me is that it is unique (I think he only makes a couple in each style and then tries something new) and made in the US.

My birthday last Sunday. A pleasant, understated evening at Mother's. In attendance were Bro Bill, Sis-In-Law Vivage, and their two delightful offspring, L and Z. Got a brief case to carry my uke tunes in and a new multi-functional pocket tool thing to replace the one I gave Cuz-in-law Jim to hold for me during my Day in Court awhile back. As I handed it to him, I thought to myself: this is the kind of thing that, once you put it in someone else's possession, you will never see again, because you will forget to get it back until after you and the person to whom you have given it have parted ways and which the both of you will only remember only after arriving at the family get-together where you next see one another. Also, I got two Bright Eyes CD's. I like them so far. One song in particular, "The Arc of Time," is catchy and, I think, ukeable.